In the Med Bay
by Ace of Dreams
Summary: This is an offshoot of my story, Traitor, in which Mikaela gives Scorpinok a bubble bath.


**Note:** This is an off shoot of my other story, Traitor, so if you haven't read it, you probably won't get some of it. I liked Mikaela and Scorpinok together so much, I decided to do a oneshot just for them. This takes place a few hours after Mikaela agrees to fix Scorpinok and right after most of the Autobots leave to find Prowl, so somewhere between chapters 3 and 4.

Also, I own nothing.

...xXx...

Scorpinok eyed the foamy liquid skeptically, lifting up a claw to prod one of the iridescent bubbles. It popped, spattering his claw with an oily film. Scorpinok turned to where Blackout stood glowering at the femme. He whined a little dubiously.

"Aw, c'mon Scorpy," the femme cooed, patting his armor gently. The first time she had done this, he had flinched, but now he found that he actually enjoyed the sensation. "You'll like it. Bubble baths feel good! Yes they do!"

The drone hesitated a moment longer before slipping into the warm liquid. The bath was large enough for him to submerge himself entirely, and he did just that, allowing the bubbly substance to wash over his armor. To his surprise, the femme was right. It did feel good, even better than the patting. Scorpinok chirruped happily and flicked his claws, sending waves of bubbles over the edge to drench the femme. Scorpinok stilled instantly, survival programming flaring to life. Would she be angry? He sank low into the water, bowing his head submissively. But instead of lashing out at him, the femme only laughed.

"Told'ya you'd like it," she said, taking a rag into one hand and beckoning him closer to the edge. "Now c'mon. We just gotta clean you up! You'll be all nice and shiny when I'm through."

Scorpinok approached her, still slightly cautious. But all his fears vanished abruptly when the femme's warm hands slid across his armored plates with strong, practiced strokes, leaving trails of ghostly warmth across his back. Scorpinok was purring before he even realized what he was doing. He leaned into her hands as they scrubbed at the dirt and grime caked on his metal skin. She continued to coo words at him, though he was far too lost in the warmth to know what she said. He was careful, though, not to move as she cleaned sand out of his joints and wounds. He didn't want her small fingers to get caught in the gears.

Routine maintenance was something Scorpinok was familiar with, but his encounters with Shockwave always left him feeling worse off than before since the scientist preferred to use modified torture devices as his medical instruments. Scorpinok had learned that maintenance was something to fear, something to avoid if at all possible. But whole millenia of acquired knowledge was being washed away with those hands. The femme worked to clean his delicate parts with the care of a creator with a new sparkling.

Scorpinok had had three masters in all. The first was his creator, a flier like Blackout, but one who worked solely as a spy and saboteur. The first lessons Scorpinok had ever learned were how to avoid capture, and, if captured, how to survive and escape. Failing any of these skills led to severe punishments and many more trips back to Shockwave. But Scorpinok knew that this particular part of his programming had saved his life many times, even though right now it was producing a small error message in the back of his processor. The problem was that Scorpinok wasn't sure whether he'd been captured or not. He was in an Autobot base with their knowledge and consent, which suggested that he was a prisoner, but Blackout was also here, and they didn't act like a prisoner at all. Scorpinok was thoroughly confused.

He flinched as the femme touched a pained area. She paused in her soft words and pulled a small scanner out of her belt.

"Oh, poor Scorpy has a broken sensor node," she said sympathetically. "I can take care of that."

And, sure enough, a few moments later the pain was gone and she was back to scrubbing and caressing Scorpinok's dinged and dented plating. Dings and dents were things that Scorpinok was accustomed to. His second master was a violent warrior-built that preferred to blame mistakes on the easiest available target: namely Scorpinok. Those were the days when Scorpinok learned to love the dark solitude of the ground, the comfort of the dirt that cradled him.

"Alright," said the femme. "Now let me check your tummy."

Scorpinok gave her a questioning chirp.

"This, Scorpy," she said, rubbing her midsection. "Roll over so I can clean it."

Rolling on his back was easier said than done. Scorpinok's internal stabilizers didn't like the motion at all. Whenever he got half-way turned, his systems flashed a warning that sent him flopping back onto his legs with a splash. He tried for several minutes, producing larger waves each time until the femme was sopping wet from head to foot.

"Okay, new plan," she said, wiping the suds out of her face. "Maybe we could..."

The femme trailed off as Blackout stepped forward with a grunt. He dipped his hands into the liquid and carefully turned Scorpinok on his back. The drone wriggled slightly, but a soft growl from the black mech stilled those movements.

Blackout was Scorpinok's third and current master. Unlike the other two, Blackout had never talked much and didn't interact with Scorpinok very often. He was a solitary mech who had taken Scorpinok from the dead warrior-built without fully understanding how to work with him. Thankfully, Scorpinok found that being ignored was better than being used as target practice. And, though he was sparing with them, Blackout occasionally offered words of encouragement or kindness. He might still chide the drone every once in a while, but Scorpinok had learned that he didn't have to shrink away from Blackout's touch. Of all the masters Scorpinok had ever had, Blackout was the only one he hoped would not die or abandon him.

His wishes were granted when he felt Blackout call for him after the battle for the Allspark. The first few summons had been expected. The next few made Scorpinok perk up in spite of his wounds and severely limited mobility, making him more determined to find his master. They helped him during those frustrating days when he could hear his master, but could not tell where the messages were coming from and when he had no voice to respond. After the first few days, though, Scorpinok knew that Blackout would probably leave this world rather than risk getting caught by staying. This place was enemy territory now, after all.

But the days turned to weeks, and the weeks to months. After ten months, Scorpinok knew that Blackout wanted him back, really wanted him back. None of Scorpinok's other masters had ever done something like this for him. They would never have risked their own lives to get him back. But Blackout had. And it was this knowledge that gave Scorpinok the will to continue digging through the hot sands in search of a way to return Blackout's hails. He searched through the dark and light, risking his own body and getting torn apart by the humans when he ventured too close to their communications towers. He watched his own power sink near death, but instead of going into recharge, he continued on, searching, searching, searching for the master who wanted him back. Even after Blackout's hails ceased, Scorpinok searched on until he found a way to call out so that Blackout could hear.

And then, when he was so near death that he thought it inevitable, Blackout found him and brought him back. Now Scorpinok found himself here in a pool of sudsy water, with a little femme rubbing his tummy and laughing, and his master Blackout standing guard over them both, obviously concerned in spite of his brooding expression.

In short, life was good, and Scorpinok was now, finally, a very happy drone.

...xXx...


End file.
